no desire to run (standing calmly at the crossroads)
by Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs
Summary: Twenty one years is a long time. Sam/Donna, post-movie.


A/N: I have watched Mamma Mia! like fifteen times this week alone in preparation of the sequel and all of my Sam/Donna feelings are out of control so this just...happened. Title from When All Is Said and Done.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Twenty one years is a long time.

It's all Donna can think about as she watches the boat containing Sophie disappear in the dark of the sea and the night; Sam's hand is warm and achingly familiar at the base of her spine- a comforting thing, a solid thing to lean against, but not something she's used to yet. Not after so many years of being alone; not after so many years of _having_ to be alone.

"She'll be alright," she finds herself saying; to assure herself or the men beside her, she's not sure, but something lightens inside her at the words.

"Course she will. You raised her," Harry offers her a familiar smile, quirked up in the corner, and Donna's heart warms as she smiles back. Sam's hand moves to her hip and squeezes in agreement, sending a thrill of warmth throughout her body.

"She's got a good head on her shoulders. The boy's not half bad too," there's teasing in Bill's voice, and it draws a soft chuckle from Donna.

"I guess, in the spirit of things, I can offer you both actual rooms tonight, instead of forcing you on the boat," she tells them, feeling Sam stifle a laugh in her hair. To her surprise, both men's cheek color in blushes.

"I, ah- actually have a room for the night," Harry replies, and Bill nods, his blush extending up to his ears.

"Uh- same here."

Donna gives them both a knowing smirk as they all walk down the dock, her arm sliding around Sam's waist; her head fell to his shoulder, their pace naturally settling together. Harry and Bill both peel off to their perspective rooms while Donna and Sam climb the stairs towards her room; it's slow and unhurried, taking in the evening air and familiar landscape.

Donna only belatedly realizes that her room is an absolute mess once she opens the door- in her defense, she hadn't expected to be sharing with anyone, hence the clothes strewn across the floor and the unmade bed.

"Oh, just give me a minute to-" she picks up a few abandoned dresses in an attempt to clean up, and Sam makes a soft noise from behind her.

"Donna," it's simply her name, but it's enough to make her pause, turning to face him. Nerves line her stomach, and it's so strange- to be nervous at all, and with _Sam_ of all people. But 24 hours ago the sight of him had sent cracks deeper into her heart, and now he was her husband, as crazy as that was.

Sam steps forward, gently taking the clothing from her and setting it aside so he can take her hands in his. His thumbs brush along the insides of her wrists, bringing them close to his chest.

"I don't care what your room looks like, or if the bed is made. All I care about is being here with you," he tells her softly, and Donna's shoulders drop as her palms pressed to his chest, eyes softening. Sam's fingers brush her hair from her face, gently touching her cheek. "I've thought about this moment for twenty one years."

"A lot of things have changed in that time," she can't help but murmur, a note of insecurity entering her voice, and Sam's hands slid down her arms to cup her elbows.

"I think time has touched you significantly less than me," amusement tinges his voice, but there's affection deep in his eyes as he looks at her, and it calms the remainder of the nerves. Donna lifts a hand to touch the wrinkles by his eyes, wondering how many had been from thinking about her over the years. "You're just as beautiful as the day I met you, Donna Sheridan."

Heat fills her cheeks, and Donna can't help but duck her head, lips curving into a smile. Sam's fingers tilt her chin up gently, and when she meets his eyes, he leans down to kiss her softly.

Of all the things that had changed over the years, the way Sam kissed hadn't. It was still all-encompassing; still took her breath away. She hadn't forgotten in twenty one years, and now she had the rest of her life to never _stop_ kissing him.

She's so consumed by the kiss that it takes her a moment to realize there are hands in her hair, tugging at the pins keeping it up. Together, they release her hair, the blonde strands falling down around her shoulders in messy, still slightly damp curls; Sam's fingers find their way into them, tilting her head back to kiss her again, deeper this time.

When Donna has the presence of mind to use her fingers again, she goes for the buttons of Sam's shirt- only half of them are done up after she'd nearly torn it off of him in the spray from the underground water, and it took only a few flicks of her wrists to have them undone. She smooths her palms up his chest, relishing the feeling of his skin under her hands; when she reaches his shoulders, she pushes the shirt to the floor, the white fabric fluttering in the breeze from the open window.

She tries to catalogue the next handful of moments; the zip of her dress lowering, the fabric fluttering to her ankles- the brush of calloused, worn fingertips down her sides, flirting with the edge of her bra. It's a rush of sensation and emotion and on top of the rollercoaster day she's had, it's overwhelming; she feels lightheaded, and ends up pressing her cheek to Sam's shoulder, eyes squeezed shut.

"I just- need a second," she whispers, voice ragged as her heart rushes in her ears, and Sam's hands span her back.

"I told you, Sheridan- rest of your life," he murmurs back as he holds her close, and Donna links her arms behind his back, allowing herself to sink into the embrace.

When her heart no longer feels like it's trying to beat out of her chest she lifts her head, finding his eyes watching her softly. Her limbs feel loose; at ease, for the first time in too many decades.

"I think it's time for you to take me to bed, Sam Carmichael," she lifts an eyebrow lazily, gaze watching his mouth intently as his tongue darted out to lick his lips. He nudged her towards the bed, drawing a grin from her as her knees hit the mattress.

It's a bit of a shuffle once they're on the bed, but eventually they end up on their sides facing each other, heads on the pillows. Sam's hand finds her hip, and hers end up on his chest.

"Nothing's ever felt as right as this," Donna confesses quietly, eyes watching the way Sam's face softens at her words. "I've missed you so much, Sam."

The kiss that follows her words is sharper; tinged with regrets and the years apart and the words they exchanged the last time they'd seen each other. But it's healing, at the same time- forgiving the distance and space and time it had taken to get them here. It would only take time- time to heal and build themselves back up; time they finally had, together, to simply _be_.

They come out the other side breathless, both panting as Sam's forehead falls to hers.

"I love you," is all he says, thumb stroking along her cheekbone before his hand sinks into her hair. Donna smiles, foot trailing down his calf.

"Less talking. More action," she teases, just as Sam's mouth descends to her neck. Her fingers twine in her hair, and she arches her back. "Yeah- like that."

There's significantly less talking after that.


End file.
